


Escape

by Kraellyk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Gags, Hunter Training, Ice Play, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rough Sex, Training, sex as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kraellyk/pseuds/Kraellyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fill for an spnkink-meme prompt:  John says it's training at first. Dean needs to learn how to get out of handcuffs/ropes, with and without gags, but at some point it becomes very definitely about sex and not training. Bonus if the objective is for him to get loose in the time John leaves him there, but if/when he's unsuccessful it means John fucks him again (and the real point of it is for John to fuck Dean a lot). At some point, I want Dean to end up lying face own on a motel bed, naked, gagged, arms securely tied/handcuffed to the bed, with a spreader bar keeping his legs apart, thoroughly fucked out -- temporarily alone in the room, but too worn out to try to get loose. Before/after that, go crazy. John's a creative man with a lot of tools at his disposal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for non-consensual sex used as discipline/punishment.

John walks into the motel room with a length of rope. Dean looks up from the newspaper just as John sets the rope down on the table Dean's sitting at.

“Ever since Sam left for college, you've been slacking on your training,” John says.

He feels a little twinge of regret when he sees the pain on Dean's face. He knows Dean is still an open wound after Sam left, but enough is enough.

“The rules are simple,” John says, then nods at the rope. “I'm going to tie you up, you're going to try to get loose in the amount of time I give you. If you don't manage to get loose in time, you're not going to like what happens.”

Dean's eyes widen and he licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Stand up,” John says.

Dean stands, and John turns him around, then ties Dean's wrists behind his back. Dean lets it happen, doesn't fight John at all, and John smiles approvingly. He doesn't tie him up very tightly, but it'll take a little work to get out of the rope.

“You have until the count of thirty to get out, starting now,” John says, then watches as Dean does exactly what he's been trained to do.

Dean doesn't bother turning around, just starts working at the rope. John keeps up a steady count out loud, and the rope falls to the floor by twenty-seven.

“Good,” John says, and he sees Dean's shoulders relax. His boy has always loved praise.

John pulls handcuffs out from his back pocket and secures them around Dean's wrists. Dean tenses, his hands balling into fists to make his wrists as big as possible when the handcuffs click into place, leaving him some room.

“Count of thirty-five,” John says, and he knows Dean will have to hurry.

Dean drops to his knees the second John says one, contorting his body to get to the cuff of his left jeans leg. He gropes for the modified pin John knows is there, but he has a problem getting it out quickly, and John is at twenty-eight by the time Dean pushes the pin into the hole.

“Thirty-five,” John says, and just one second later cuff pops open. John leans down, clicking the cuff back into place and tossing the pin across the room.

“I almost had it!” Dean says, obviously kicking himself for his failure.

“Almost doesn't cut it,” John says, pushing Dean onto his back and undoing the buttons on his jeans.

Dean's eyes widen. “What are you doing?” he asks, not flat out panicking, but concerned.

“Do you really think somebody who handcuffs you is going to give you a second chance if you can't get out in time?” John asks.

Dean winces as John yanks his pants and underwear down to his knees. “No, but I almost had it,” Dean says.

John rolls Dean over to his belly and straddles Dean's legs. “I told you almost doesn't cut it.”

“Dad!” Dean yelps as John spreads his cheeks. “Wait! What are you doing?”

John spits at Dean's hole, then shoves two fingers in. John isn't knocked off Dean's legs by the flailing that starts up, but Dean tries his best anyway.

“Ow! Dad! Wait!” Dean says, grunting as he tries to dislodge his dad.

“A monster isn't gonna wait, kid, and neither is a human,” John says, then pulls his own hard cock out of his pants.

“Dad!” Dean says, panting into the carpet. “Wait! Please! Give me one more chance! I can get it! Please, I-ah!” Dean screams as John pushes in.

John isn't brutal. He pushes in and backs out a few times, spitting at Dean's hole again. His aim isn't to damage Dean, just to get him to take this more seriously, to give him some motivation. John fucks him fast, close to coming even just a few strokes in. He comes with a grunt inside Dean, pulling out and climbing off him.

“You have to the count of thirty-five to find the pin and get out of the cuffs,” John says.

Dean springs into action, making his way awkwardly across the room on his knees, nearly falling on his face a couple times, but he makes it. John smiles with approval as Dean heads right to the pin and picks it up. Dean must've paid attention and knew right where John had thrown it.

“Thirty-four,” John says just as the cuffs fall to the floor. “Good job, son.”

Dean is panting, but when he looks over his shoulder at John, he has a little smile on his face. It's the same smile he gets whenever John tells him he's done a good job.

John pulls forty dollars out of his wallet and puts it on the table. “Pizza and beer on me tonight if you wanna go pick it up.”

“Sure,” Dean says, pushing himself to his feet and pulling his jeans up.

*

The next night they're in a new motel room, the hunt over and starting their down time before their next hunt. John pulls out a roll of duct tape and gestures toward the bed.

“I'm going to give you three minutes to get out of this,” John says as Dean sits down on the bed, but John waves him back up again. “Get on your knees, hands behind your back.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, getting into position.

John duct tapes each wrist to each of Dean's ankles. It's snug, but not overly restrictive, and John doesn't wrap the tape around an excessive amount of times, though it'll be difficult to get out of this in the time Dean's been given.

Dean falls onto his side as soon as John starts counting, rolling over to the pillows and searching for his knife. John smiles. He's already taken Dean's knife and put it in his duffel bag. Dean doesn't pause when he realizes the knife is gone, and instead he rolls off the end of the bed and over to his own duffel bag.

John is already up to two minutes and twelve seconds when Dean gets the duffel bag open and finds the knife. It's an awkward position, but John has trained Dean since the kid was only four years old. He can do this.

Dean positions himself so that the knife will start slicing through the duct tape, but he's in an odd position and he has only the clothes in his duffel bag to hold the knife in place instead of his hands, so it takes a while.

“Three minutes,” John says, then steps over to Dean.

“No! Dad, wait!” Dean whimpers as he tries to cut through the tape before John gets there.

John grabs his legs and yanks him away from the duffel bag. He puts Dean on his side, then undoes the buttons on his jeans.

“I almost fucking had it!” Dean growls. “I was close! Just give me another thirty seconds! Please!”

“When you're hunting, you can't ask whatever you're up against to give you thirty more seconds,” John says calmly, then spits into the palm of his hand. John wipes his hand off between Dean's cheeks, then lines his hard cock up.

“No!” Dean says as he tries to wriggle away. “I'm sorry!”

John ignores Dean, instead spitting again into his hand and using it to lube the shaft of his cock. He pushes in, going a little faster this time.

“Dad! Ah, wait, D-Dad!” Dean yelps as John fucks into him.

John fucks him, holding Dean down with a hand on his shoulder and one on his hip. John hadn't realized how good it would feel to fuck Dean's tight little hole, and he lets himself enjoy it enough to get off. He has a lesson to teach Dean, and that's his real reason for doing this, but if he can get off a little quicker thinking of Dean's hole clenching around him, if he can listen to the panting coming from Dean, then he's going to use it to his advantage.

Dean doesn't fight him, and John knows Dean is beating himself up inside for not being as quick as he should've been. The kid's eyes are squeezed shut and he has a frown on his face. John doesn't want to break the kid's spirit. He just wants to keep him safe.

John grunts as he comes inside Dean, grinding down on his son as he rides out his orgasm. “I'm going to give you another chance,” John says, ruffling Dean's hair. “I'm sure you'll get it this time.”

Dean nods, a little shaky as he gets to his knees, but his hands are still duct taped behind his back, so John lets it slide. When Dean manages to get free the next time, John praises him, telling him how proud he is of Dean, and it warms John's heart to see Dean's shy smile.

*

Two nights later, they get to the motel a little after one in the morning. They're not overly tired, but they have to get up early the next morning to get a jump on interviewing people. There are a ton of people to interview, and John learned early on that knocking on doors past dark tends to worry people, no matter who you say you are.

They'd eaten burgers from a drive-through a few hours back, so all there was left to do was strip and get into bed. John had other ideas.

“I've got a new one for ya,” John said, pulling out a ball gag.

Dean smirked. “I hope you didn't just buy that for me,” he said.

John snorted. “I clean it after each use,” he said, then grinned when Dean's eyes widened. “C'mere,” he said, walking up to Dean and pushing the ball into Dean's mouth.

He fastened it around Dean's head, Dean leaning over so John could get at the buckle. Then John wrapped duct tape around his wrists, keeping them in front of his body this time. Without the use of his teeth, Dean would have to find something else to cut the tape.

Dean stood still, letting John do whatever he wanted. It gave John a sense of power, and he wondered just how much Dean would let him do.

“Sit down on the edge of the bed,” John said, manhandling Dean where he wanted him.

Dean sat down, then grunted as John wrapped his belt around Dean's neck and secured it to the bedpost.

“You have a minute thirty to get out of it,” John said, then stood back.

Dean tried to turn, but choked when the belt tightened around his neck. He immediately stopped, instead leaning against the bedpost and reaching up over his head to undo the belt buckle. John was pleased to hear that Dean was controlling his breathing, keeping himself calm and rational.

It took Dean longer to get the belt undone than John had thought, and Dean must've been keeping track of the time himself because he tripped over his own feet once he finally got the belt off and headed for the duffel bag.

Dean didn't let it slow him down. He crawled to the duffel, opened it, and then growled, the sound muffled by the gag in his mouth. John had cleaned out both their duffels, leaving only the clothes. Dean looked around the room for anything sharp, and John hid a smile behind his hand as Dean looked at the bathroom counter for their razors, finding nothing.

John knew Dean wouldn't give up, but he was impressed with Dean's ingenuity. He crawled to the bed again, then flipped the blanket out of the way and searched the frame.

Dean let out a grunt when he found what he was looking for and started using a sharp edge of metal to cut the duct tape.

“Freeze,” John barked, and Dean obeyed. “Time's up,” he said as he walked up to Dean, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pushed him down to the floor.

John reached around and popped the buttons on Dean's jeans, then yanked the jeans and underwear down. Dean shook his head, grunting and growling, but he didn't try to get away.

“You were close,” John said, spreading Dean's cheeks. “But close doesn't cut it.”

Dean nodded, then sucked in a quick breath through his nose when John pushed two lubed fingers into his hole. He whined as John pushed his cock into him, but John knew he hadn't torn anything. There was no blood when he pulled out and Dean was grunting instead of whimpering.

John came with a grunt, then pulled out and sat back. “Leave your clothes where they are. I'm gonna set up the same scenario, but this time you can't use the same sharp spot on the bed frame as you already did. Find somethin' else. And you're gonna do it with your jeans and underwear around your ankles and my come leakin' outta your ass.”

Dean nodded, and John could see the blush all the way down Dean's neck. He smacked Dean's ass as he stood up, then grabbed him by the upper arms and put him into position.

This time when John stood back, Dean kept calm and didn't choke himself. But as he got down on the floor, Dean growled when he couldn't find another sharp edge on the bed frame. He crawled over to the other bed, but again there were no sharp edges.

John almost felt bad for Dean. He knew Dean had been working so hard at being good for him that he'd forgotten the obvious, so when John told him the time was up, and Dean sat there on the floor with his shoulders down in defeat, John tapped the ball gag.

“I never told you this had to stay in,” he said.

Dean looked up at John, his eyes wide as he realized he could've used his teeth to get out of the duct tape if he'd only taken the ball gag off.

John pushed him down, fucking into him before Dean even had a chance to get comfortable on the carpet. Dean had pushed his forehead against the floor, his entire body stiff, and John knew Dean was feeling even more like a failure than usual.

“That's why we're doing this, son,” John said, his thrusts most likely giving Dean rug burn on his forehead. “In the heat of the moment, there are tons of things you forget about. But if you practice, get all these mistakes out of the way, then when the real thing happens, you're prepared and can survive.”

John unbuckled the ball gag, letting it fall onto the carpet. Dean didn't make any noise as John fucked him harder, coming inside him for the second time in one night. John hadn't been able to do that for years, and the thought that pushed him over the edge, the scene he played over and over again in his head was the come leaking from Dean's ass as he crawled around on the floor, desperately searching for something sharp to cut the duct tape.

“Don't beat yourself up about it,” John said softly, giving Dean's back a pat. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean mumbled.

John ripped the tape and pulled it away from Dean's skin. “You wanna sleep with me tonight?” he asked.

Dean nodded. John did that every once in a while. Sam had never been comforted by it, but for Dean, it was a way of showing affection that no one else could see. They wouldn't cuddle or talk, but the closeness always soothed Dean, especially after he'd made a mistake.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” Dean said once John helped him up.

“Okay,” John said with a nod.

Dean stayed in the bathroom for quite a while, the shower running. John figured Dean had strained something, so he let Dean have some privacy. By the time Dean crawled into bed, John pretended to be asleep, and when Dean curled up behind him, his body up against John's, all John did was smile before falling asleep.

*

The next night they were both exhausted. They'd done interviews for over six hours before they'd had a solid lead. They'd separated and hunted the creature down, Dean getting the kill. They picked up a pizza on the way to the motel and shoved a few pieces down with some soda.

When it looked like Dean was done, John got up from his bed and grabbed his duffel bag. “I have a new one to try,” John said, pulling out a small Y-chain with clamps attached at two ends.

Dean's eyes widened, but he stood up and came to John. He didn't say anything, and John wondered if Dean was getting pissed over all the practice sessions. John would've been pissed if someone was doing this to him, but he knew it was good for Dean. Dean needed to learn, and if John was able to get off a few times, then that just meant he'd sleep better.

“Take your shirt off,” John said, and nodded approvingly as Dean immediately obeyed him. John pinched Dean's left nipple, getting it hard, then put the clamp on.

Dean hissed, but held still and didn't complain. John attached the clamp to the other nipple, then pulled handcuffs out of his back pocket, sliding them on Dean and closing them. He attached the third length of the Y-chain to the handcuffs. It was a short chain, and it forced Dean to hold his wrists close to his nipples or the clamps would be pulled.

“Get on the bed,” John said. “On your back.”

Dean did as he was told, and John tied his ankles together, then tied them to the left lower corner of the bed frame. For a final touch, John took Dean's modified lock pick out of the cuff of his jeans and set it on top of the head of the bed.

“Oh, come on!” Dean whined, looking John in the eye.

“You have fifty seconds to get out of that,” John said.

Dean growled, looking down at his ankles, then back at the head of the bed. John watched closely as Dean tried to work out other options. There were only thirty seconds left when Dean made his decision and reached up with both hands, yelping as the chain went with his wrists, yanking the clamps off his nipples.

He didn't hesitate as he felt around for the lock pick, grabbed it, then got the cuffs open. He sat up, the cuffs dropping between his legs with only fifteen seconds left, and he attacked the rope around his ankles.

It wasn't fast enough. Dean was still working on the rope around his right ankle when John barked, “Freeze!”

“Fuck!” Dean growled, flopping onto his back.

John walked up to the bed and got Dean's jeans and underwear down quickly. He was surprised to see that Dean's cock was half hard, but he figured it was the adrenaline. He pushed Dean over onto his stomach, spit on his hole, and shoved his way in.

“Dad, oh! Fuck! Dude!” Dean complained. “You're supposed to use your fingers first!”

John chuckled. “I already had lube on my cock, you big baby.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, but that fucking burned,” he whined.

“I told you how much time you had,” John said, fucking Dean hard. “I get to choose the punishment, and tonight it's a fuck without prep. Be glad I used lube.”

“And my nipples hurt,” he grumbled.

“Aww,” John drawled, “do you want me to kiss them better?”

Dean pushed his forehead against the bed, grunting as John fucked him even harder. Just as John was about to come, he felt Dean's asshole clenching around him. It surprised him enough that his orgasm hit hard and almost unexpectedly. John pulled out and sat back, wondering how Dean would react to having come on his father's cock.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” Dean said, sliding off the bed and walking to the bathroom, keeping his back to John.

John frowned down at the wet spot on the bed. He shrugged, figuring it was because of the pounding Dean's prostate had taken.

It was three nights later that they finally had some time to practice again. John had stopped at a specialty store the night before and stocked up on some supplies just for Dean.

“Strip,” John said.

Dean hesitated. “Why?” he asked, looking nervous.

John glared at him, but Dean didn't move. “Because I said so,” John growled.

“Everything?” he asked.

“Dean!” John barked.

Dean winced, but he did as he was told. “It's cold,” he complained.

“I'll turn the heater up a little,” John said, even though he knew Dean was just trying to get out of stripping. “Get on the bed. Face down.”

Dean obeyed, then stayed still while John attached a spreader bar to Dean's ankles. When John lifted the bar, testing it out, Dean turned his head, looking over his shoulder.

“What the fuck is that?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Spreader bar,” John said. “Keeps your legs spread.”

“Oh, okay,” Dean said, sounding even more nervous than he had before, but he put his head back down on the bed.

John handcuffed each of Dean's wrists to the headboard, keeping them spread wide apart so that Dean would really have a hard time getting out of the bondage. Dean grumbled when John strapped the ball gag around his head, but didn't fight him. The final touch was a rope securing the spreader bar to the foot of the bed.

“This one's a little tougher,” John said. “I'm going to check on you every five minutes. If you're not out, I'm gonna fuck you.”

Dean looked up at John, his neck straining and his eyes wide. John knew the look. Dean was scared of being alone, tied up and helpless.

“I'm not gonna leave the motel,” John said, patting Dean's ass. “The door and windows are salted, I've got a weapon, and I'm gonna be close enough that I'll hear if something goes wrong. Okay?”

Dean nodded, still scared, but reassured somewhat by John's words. John nodded and walked out of the room onto the front sidewalk. He strolled to the soda machine and bought himself something to drink. He took his time drinking it, then headed back into the room at the five-minute mark.

Dean was sweating even though the room wasn't overly warm. It was obvious he'd been working at it the entire five minutes, but he'd gotten nowhere. John unzipped as he walked to the bed.

“Time's up,” John said as he climbed onto the bed, slicking his cock as he spread Dean's cheeks.

Dean let out a pained moan as John pushed into him, squeezing his eyes shut. John had already been hard for the last five minutes, imagining his boy tied to the bed, so it didn't take long for him to come. He climbed off the bed and headed for the door again.

“Five minutes,” he said, and smiled as he heard Dean let out a frustrated scream, muffled by the gag.

This time John bought himself a bag of chips from the vending machine, slowly munching on them as he waited. Dean was panting by the time he stepped back into the room. As John climbed onto the bed, he heard Dean saying something over and over again. The more he listened, the more he realized Dean was repeating, “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, kid,” John said, fucking into Dean's wet hole. “You haven't figured it out yet. But you'll get it. I've told you before we're doing this for practice.”

Dean stopped repeating the words and instead went loose on the bed, fatigue setting in. John fucked him slower this time. He wasn't a young man anymore, and even though Dean's ass was warm and clenching around his cock, it took him a while to come. When he did, Dean thrust against the bed, coming with a shout.

John frowned. Things were adding up in his head. He was an observant man, and if Dean thought he could pull one over on his old man, he had another think coming.

John climbed off the bed and crouched near Dean's head at the side of the bed. “So,” he drawled, “how long have you been failing so I'd fuck you?”

Dean's eyes widened and he started frantically shaking his head. John was sure he was repeating “no” over and over, but he couldn't be sure. John reached up and unbuckled the gag.

“I didn't,” Dean said, drool running down his chin from the gag. “I didn't mean to... I-I'm sorry,” he said, his mouth hanging open as if he couldn't figure out what to say.

“It's okay, Dean,” John said with a shrug. “I mean it's not okay that you manipulated me, but it's okay if you're enjoying it. It's sex. Sex is fun.”

“I'm sorry,” Dean whispered. “I didn't... I mean, well, I wasn't doing it on purpose at first.”

John nodded. “If you wanted to have some fun, all you had to do was ask,” he said with a smirk.

Dean blushed. Even with everything they'd done, Dean still blushed. “Sorry.”

John chuckled. “You're gonna be sorry,” he said.

Dean's eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” John said, pausing for effect, “since getting fucked isn't a good consequence for failing to get free in time, then I've gotta come up with something else. Something you won't like.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed.

“We can still do that,” John said. “I'm havin' a good time, it's obvious you're havin' a good time, so we can blow off steam with some fucking, but there'll be consequences.”

“Like what?” Dean asked, wincing as John put the gag back in place and buckled it.

“You've got five more minutes,” John said, standing up. “You'll find out about those new consequences if you don't get free in that five minutes,” he said, then walked out the door, zipping up as he went.

John went to the ice dispenser, grabbed a plastic basin, and filled it with ice after about four minutes. When he walked back into their room, Dean wasn't moving beside the panting breaths. John knew Dean had tried. He'd already been at it for a long time, and John was impressed Dean had been struggling as long as he had, but now he was worn out.

John put the basin on the bed between Dean's legs, then grabbed Dean's left leg with one hand and a handful of ice with the other. He tossed the ice beneath Dean's cock and balls, then let go of Dean's leg.

Dean instantly started screaming, his back arching and his whole body straining, but he couldn't move away from the ice because he was too well-secured. John picked up two more ice cubes and held them in his hand for a few moments, letting it melt enough to get rid of the hard edges.

As John pushed the ice cubes into Dean's hole, he screamed even louder, thrashing about on the bed as he tried to get away from the cold. It took a while, but Dean finally went limp, whimpering around the gag.

John picked up two more ice cubes, held them in his hand, then pushed them into Dean's hole. Dean whined, but he barely moved.

“Now,” John said, pushing his thumb into Dean's hole, “because you manipulated your old man, you don't get to come tonight.”

Dean let out something that might have been a wail had he not been gagged. He didn't struggle, merely panted through his nose.

“Every time you fail to get out of bondage, I'll make sure you don't get to come the rest of the night,” John said. “I'll still get to come, but you won't.”

Dean groaned, then worked his jaw open and closed as John unbuckled the gag and dropped it to the side of the bed.

“If you manage to get yourself loose,” John continued, “I'll let you come.”

“I can't get out of this,” Dean whimpered.

“And tonight you don't get to come,” John said.

“You're fucking mean,” Dean said, his voice hoarse.

John chuckled. “Then you'd better work hard at getting free other nights so you can come.”

Dean groaned as John pushed his cock into his loose hole. “Isn't that cold?” Dean asked, his words slurred with exhaustion.

John hissed. “Yeah, but I've always wanted to try that.”

Dean chuckled. “What if I accidentally come?”

“Oh, you don't wanna do that,” John warned, then grinned as Dean whimpered.

Yeah, this was going to be fun.


End file.
